Allegiance
by SimplyTully
Summary: Follow-up of "Mourning". The Blackfish seeks out Lady Stoneheart. Mild swearing and touchy themes. ASOS BOOK SPOILERS. I hope the Word format does not mess up the italics this time. Okay, it did, sorry.


Timeline of my stories:

**Past!Blackfish:**  
>- CHALLENGE, posted<br>- FOR THE CAUSE, work in progress  
>- A WORTHLESS LIFE, posted<br>- UNTITLED 1, work in progress  
>- A TULLY PARTING, posted<br>- THE KNIGHT OF THE BLOODY GATE, posted

**Present!Blackfish (AFFC-ADWD timeline):**  
>- MOURNING, posted<br>- ALLEGIANCE, posted  
>- FAITH, complete, unpublished<p>

Note: this idea caused me to be flamed on one message board by a poster who would not accept that a certain character MIGHT ask what she asks at the end of this story. No matter how I tried to explain that I was just quoting "Million Dollar Baby"; he/she insisted that I was making her weak and resigned because she was a woman. This had NOTHING to do with my story; it could have been a man, a dog, a tree... I understand it's a topic that can push buttons and press triggers, but I only meant it as something that could happen between two people bound by ties of kinship and love, and between these two people in particular, not as some manifesto. Oh well, sometimes you can't win. If you find something offensive in the treatment of this topic please let me know, I'm open to discussion!

ALLEGIANCE

_The meeting of the Stark bannermen ended in the dead of night. A few torches were lit as we left the warmth of Lord Jason Mallister's tent. Light was dangerous, darkness even more so. An army of sentries circled the camp, unseen and unheard. The lone representative of Greywater Watch disappeared towards a refuge in the woods, and each lord sought his pavilion after whispered partings. So did I, the only lady present, my spiked mace swinging at my side. The Blackfish stopped briefly to talk with the captain of the watch. Satisfied that our camp was as safe as could be, he fell in with me without a word._

_He had been right; chaos had been our ally. The Greyjoys had ambushed the Freys at Seagard, and in the confusion Glover and I had retaken the castle with our small force. Then Mallister and I had called the banners in the name of the Starks, receiving a heartening response from all holdfasts and lordlings still free from Lannister lackeys. A brief power struggle between Lord Jason and me had been ended by the reappearance of Brynden Tully. We two had relinquished command of the joint host to the renowned Blackfish; Mallister with more grace than I._

_In the days since I had last seen Brynden, I had come to deem him an irresponsible hothead, too rash for his years, with all the diplomatic skill of a boiled trout, who had jeopardized our cause to pursue a personal vendetta and possibly get killed. My fury was as fierce as my love. Knowing that Brynden was angry with me for trying to make him marry Lady Flint had not helped my hopes of seeing him again, let alone all the rest._

_Our host was camped all around under the direwolf banner, Glovers and Mallisters, Flints and Blackwoods, the remains of the Umbers; sparse campfires, red gems twinkling on black velvet, formless soldiers huddling around them for warmth. I slowed my pace, because Brynden beside me limped and moved stiffly. He had a broken shield arm and an arrow wound in the calf; he also sported a fresh bandage around his head. At the meeting he had shrugged his injuries away, relaying that the Brotherhood Without Banners was unmanageable as an ally, but that Thoros of Myr was a sensible man. Dark-clothed and dark-faced, he had added nothing, and nobody had inquired. Few knew of his connection with Lady Stoneheart, alleged leader of the Brotherhood, and only I knew of his vow to kill her._

_Had he accomplished his mission? Was that the reason for his gloom?_

_Together we entered my tent marked by the Mormont bear: two grey-haired veterans retiring to confer further. I hung my warhorn to a pole and propped my mace under it. Brynden threw down his bedding beside mine. Days and nights of calling him names in my mind fell away like autumn leaves. In view of his wounds, I wanted him to lie back and let me take care of him, but after a brief battle of wits the Blackfish came out on top. By then I had no objections. Matter-of-factly, we removed the appropriate parts of our armour and made love. It was a given, no questions asked, even though we had enjoyed only one night together before Brynden had left without saying goodbye._

_Our comrades knew we were close, but could only guess at how close, just as they had only guessed at Brynden Tully's private habits for years. That night's spontaneous joining made me suspect that Brynden has a much more down-to-earth approach to sex than his legend lets people believe. Like most human beings he needed consolation and release, and oh look, Lady Maege Mormont happened to be close by, and not displeasing to him. There is a freedom in him, the freedom of his rivers, that a proper lady might resent, but together with the faithfulness he offered me at Widow's Watch, it suits me perfectly. _

_I almost felt like I were married again, but I had the good sense to keep it to myself, or he would have bolted from my tent without even lacing up his breeches. Instead I whispered his name into his ear; I growled my rage and my fear, sighed my joy at having him back alive and in my arms. Brynden's whispers were only for me and the night to know._

_Lather we rearranged our clothes to be ready for any crisis. Like the camp, the tent was in darkness, but I felt his grin. "I hate farewells, Maege," the Blackfish said._

_I laughed so hard that he pressed his fingers gently on my lips. I took his hand. "It seems it was no farewell. Therefore I forgive you." I kissed his strong scarred fingers._

_We lay facing each other on our sides, Brynden leaning on his unhurt right shoulder. Talking that way was sweet, nose to nose and wrapped in the warm blankets. Since I am so much shorter and tubbier than him, it was a rare intimacy. We exchanged a few more kisses and inconsequential words. I thought he was falling asleep._

_I regretted not being able to see his craggy, open face, but it was clear in my mind. I have known the Blackfish for close to thirty years, fighting many battles by his side. There had been one night, sleeping around the campfire. Dozing, wrapped up in my furs with my mace by my side and my warrior daughter Dacey snoring on the other side, I had noticed Brynden sitting by the fire, sword on his knees, his gaze lost in the flames, in vain pursuit of past vows and duties I would probably never know. Had there been no love in my heart that time? The night at Widow's Watch had only crowned a lifetime of mutual devotion._

_I was drifting off, huddled against his body heat, holding on to the image of his face lit by the flames - when he spoke in a husky voice, fully awake. "There are worse things than kinslaying, Maege."_

_I had let him choose the time to tell me, and the time had come. My lethargy fled. I wanted to make him sure of my closeness. Since we were fully dressed, I slid a hand along his face, feeling his grateful smile, and rested it on the back of his neck, moving it gently through his hair._

_The Blackfish took a deep breath and started his tale._

Tracing the Brotherhood Without Banners was easy. I followed the string of hanged Lannisters and thankful villagers, drunk with revenge. They were suspicious and protective of their protectors, but I told them I was a black brother from the Wall, in search of recruits and allies for the Night Watch. I suppose I looked the part; I had hidden my brooch and covered the hilt of my sword, and I even rode a black horse. Nobody recognized me. If I am to lead this army, Maege, please find me a Tully surcoat and have the leaping fish painted black: I want the Lannister lions to know who I am.

The villagers did not help me, nor did they hinder me. Gathering hints and half-words, I headed in what turned out to be the right direction. I found a group of hanged people, men and women; the ravens had not yet started on them. Night was falling and I followed the traces on the frozen ground until I could, then I tied my horse and waited for some sign in the darkness. Finally I saw the gleam of a distant campfire.

I advanced on foot, hiding in the bushes. I managed to sneak close enough to see their faces by the light of fires and torches planted in the ground. Some sort of meeting. It was the most bizarre band I had ever seen - a dark burly youth, a young archer, a madman with a yellow cloak and the Hound's helm under his arm, but he could not be Sandor Clegane because his face was not burned - and anyway they say he's dead. Finally, the famed warrior priest Thoros of Myr, wearing armour over a red tunic. He was different from the last time I had seen him, thin and gaunt, with greying hair, but he spoke serenely. It looked like they were deferring to him as a leader.

Ah, Maege, how I hoped then that you were wrong. I hoped that the news you had received were a demented legend born of desperation or cruelty, and that Catelyn was lying in whatever grave the Freys had allotted her. All I had left was to wish my niece was dead and in the arms of the Mother.

Then I saw her.

She was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, with a bloody crown on her knees. Her son's crown. She looked the way you had described her to me, and worse. How to explain what I felt? Fear, horror, rage... and love, the Seven forgive me. I did not want to believe that living corpse was my Cat, but blood speaks louder than reason.

I had to put her out of her misery.

My nerves were raw and I was almost shaking, yet I did not make a noise. No chattering of teeth, no uncontrolled gestures of dismay. My eyeballs were almost popping from my skull - but silently. I was barely breathing. The last dying leaves of this bloodied autumn were enough to hide me. I know I can be invisible in the darkness. I was trying to calm down and consider my options, when she TURNED HER HEAD TOWARDS ME.

I know not how I can be here with you, alive and sane. The eyes, Maege. Dead. Aflame with vengeance. They found me in the dark and skewered me. She did as you said - she covered her gaping throat with a skeletal hand and spoke. Her voice was a nightmare, but I understood, and so did her men.

She said: "My uncle is there."

The Brotherhood erupted in chaos. They grabbed their weapons but hesitated, looking at the spot Lady Stoneheart was watching. I had left it at once. I tried to move through the underbrush without noise, but I was in a hurry. I needed another hiding place; I could not fight them all. In a few heartbeats I heard them behind me. I swerved and rolled down the dry bed of a torrent, every stone digging into my body, then scrambled up the other side and found a big sentinel tree. I climbed as far up as I could, stood on a branch, hugged the trunk and tried to quiet the burning breath in my chest.

It sounds easy, but I thought of you, Maege, and how you would laugh on learning the Blackfish had died of starvation up a tree because he had broken his hip. Nay, hush. I know you would mourn, but I truly hope you would laugh too. If one day it will be you who commits my body to the river, I want you to send me off with a smile when you shoot the fiery arrow at my boat.

Hush, bear lady. Let us not talk of this; I am alive, and with your leg between my thighs. Life is good.

Through the leaves, I saw them walk along the bank with torches. They looked perplexed. Then SHE came out of the trees. She slid along as though her feet did not touch the ground. She found my tree unfailingly and pointed a stick finger up at me. Again I understood her words. "Do not harm him."

It was a quandary for us all. I could not get down, but I would have killed anybody who tried to climb. Suddenly I felt a searing pain in my calf, and my foot slipped. I tried to hold on to the trunk, but I lost my balance and crashed down. The Warrior be thanked: the branches slowed my fall and I landed almost softly.

I was on my feet and swinging my sword before they were on me, all my old bones screaming and a broken arrow jutting from my leg. They surrounded me warily. The archer could disable me with another arrow, so I was careful to move in a circle and keep one of them between him and me.

The red priest Thoros held out a hand. "Sheath your sword, Blackfish. We mean you no harm."

I think I lost my mind there, Maege. "Like you meant no harm to _her_?" I screamed, and charged at him. Thoros is a good swordsman, but given a few more moments I would have taken his head off. The others rushed me. Three or four brought me down with their weight. One grabbed my sword arm with both hands. All the time SHE stood there with Robb's crown in her dead hands, watching me.

I went berserk. I forgot that my duty was to kill Catelyn and _then_ die, if I was meant to die. I was blind with terror that they might do to me what they had done to her. In my madness I found the strength to shake them off and lurch to my feet. I turned around with a swipe of my sword, but I only grazed the yellow cloak, who howled as if I had cut out his balls. I stumbled back, watching them all, watching the archer, watching the horror that was Lady Stoneheart, _not_ watching the gnarled root in the grass that snagged my wounded leg. I fell sideways and my head hit the tree. Everything went black.

Helm? Greaves? Come on, lady, I cannot track someone through the woods in full armour!

In a few breaths my vision cleared. I lay facedown in the grass. They were tying my hands behind my back. My sword was gone, my head felt like it had exploded, my eyes and mouth were full of blood. I must have bit my lip. I spat and tried to free myself.

Aye, Maege. All that and more. You forgot "shit-for-brains", love.

Someone grabbed my left arm and twisted it behind my back with such violence that I heard the bone snap. I almost passed out again. Rage brought me around, because the fucking yellow cloak was kneeling on my back and mocking me: "Will you yield now, old man?"

The words "I yield" have never issued my lips and never will.

Thoros crouched down beside my head. I blinked the blood away, thankful for small blessings: he looked sympathetic, and SHE was not in my field of vision. "Ser Brynden," he said calmly. "Think about it. We have no interest in killing you to resurrect you later. If you die, you shall stay dead. But I do not desire your death, and neither does Lady Stoneheart. She wants to talk to you. I will not ask from you the indignity of yielding. Get up, and I shall treat your wounds. Warrior to warrior."

By then my wits were coming back. He was right, and he was offering an honourable surrender. I appreciated that. Further resistance would only get me killed. I had to bide my time and wait for the opportunity to kill Catelyn.

I nodded. It hurt.

Relieved, Thoros gestured to the others, and the weight on my back lifted. The red priest took my uninjured arm and helped me up. The dark-haired surly youth supported me on the other side with an arm around my waist.

The walk back to their camp was the seven hells at each step. Only pride prevented me from throwing up. The worst was my arm, though Thoros had fastened it to my chest with his sword belt. My head throbbed dully. And I have had arrows in me countless times, but I would gladly have done without another one.

When we reached the camp, Thoros helped me sit with my back against a tree. "I shall have to restrain you. I trust you, Blackfish, but I do not trust your temper."

I nodded again.

I let them get my mail shirt off. It was beyond torture. The dark youth bound my waist and right arm to the tree. My left arm and my legs were free but useless, and by then I was calmer. A sick curiosity was unwittingly stirring within me.

Thoros brought a wooden box of ointments and bandages. He placed a cold cloth on the head wound to stop the swelling. Meanwhile he cut my boot and my breeches' lower leg, and briskly pulled out the arrowhead. I managed not to make a sound. He laid another cloth on the wound, soaked in boiled wine, then started to work on setting my arm. He poured half a bottle of wine down my throat. That helped.

Lady Stoneheart sat on a fallen trunk a few steps from us. Gods, that crown.

"Make her leave." My speech was slurred.

"Excuse me?"

I cleared my throat. "I don't want her here."

"I am sorry, Ser Brynden. She will stay."

"Then clean my face first."

Thoros was surprised by my request, and I was too. Did I want to look dignified in front of a niece, or an enemy? The priest used the wet cloth to wipe the blood off my face and hair as best as he could, then soaked it in a bucket of fresh water and placed it again on my brow.

He cut my left sleeve and probed my upper arm. "There is much you do not know, Ser Brynden."

"I know enough," I said through clenched teeth. Rage distracted me from pain, and vice versa. "You used to revive Lord Beric Dondarrion from his mortal wounds. You revived Catelyn Stark's corpse, when she had been dead for days. That was obscene."

Thoros was preparing two straight short branches to splint my arm. "Not I. It was Lord Beric. He paid for it with his own life."

"So the young lord is truly dead? Why didn't you -"

"I tried." Thoros was crushed. "I could not. He probably used up all his living spirit in giving life to her."

"Then he wasted it," I snarled. "That _thing_ is not alive."

"Alive enough to know what she wants. Vengeance against the Lannisters."

I felt like throttling him. "We want it while we live! She was dead! By the gods, man, hadn't she suffered enough in life? Her husband beheaded, her castle burned to the ground, her children dead or lost, her father dead, her sister killed, her brother a prisoner, she herself murdered in cold blood over the corpse of her son... Didn't she deserve rest and comfort with her family, in the sweet mercy of the Mother?"

SHE was sitting there during my rant, staring at me in silence.

"Who knows what Lord Beric saw, each time he crossed death's threshold," Thoros said sorrowfully. "Six times, it was. The last at the hands of the Hound. He must have thought restoring her life was worth the effort. Maybe he knew things we know not."

"Maybe he could have shared them with you."

Thoros speared me with his dark Myrish gaze. "So you've never had a secret you could not reveal even to your closest companions?"

That shut me up.

Thoros finished bandaging my splinted arm and folded it on my chest with a rag tied around my neck. He turned to the leg wound again. He asked for a lantern to be brought close. He removed the cloth, took some spindly instruments from his box and probed the wound to check for scraps of cloth and leather. The wine in my belly prevented me from yelling. He cleaned it, poured hot wine and bandaged it securely.

He did the same with my head, pulling splinters from a ragged cut just above my hairline. "You are here to kill her," he said calmly while his face was close to mine.

I glanced at him.

"She knows," Thoros added. "We all know. It is a most honourable act; we expect no less from the Blackfish. But you will not do it."

I gritted my teeth and refused to answer.

With my head safely bandaged, Thoros stood and looked down on me, pleased with his handiwork. He slashed the ropes that tied me to the tree.

"Now she will talk to you." He laid my own sword against the tree, beside the lantern.

I was bewildered. Surely he knew I would use it on Lady Stoneheart!

"Do you want a hand up?" Thoros asked.

"Nay." I needed all my strength to do what I had come to do, and if I was not able to get up alone, I might as well use my sword to kill myself.

Thoros turned and disappeared among the trees.

I was alone in the glade with Lady Stoneheart. I bent my healthy leg under me and pushed, helping myself with my right hand. At last I stood with my back to the tree. The world was spinning. I was shaky and probably feverish. I closed my eyes but it was worse, so I opened them again and waited for the silver sparkles to subside. She was in the centre of them.

I picked up my naked sword and pulled away from the tree. I tried standing, then a step. I was a wreck of pain and weakness, but I managed to close the distance between us, limping and swaying.

She looked at me as calmly as a dead person can be calm. Gods, her face - my own face - scarred to the bone, her hair turned white, the gaping wound across her throat... I tried to lift the sword, one-handed. A Tully sword, surmounted by our emblem, engraved with our words, never meant to drink Tully blood.

Whatever ran in the veins of that corpse was not blood.

The air had become icy. Maege, remember what your brother used to say about the Others behind the Wall? Remember the stories of Night Watch men frozen at their post, covered in ice? I do not say I was in the presence of an Other. I know not what it was. _Everything_ is cold these days. The Starks' winter has truly come.

I took another step to get within swinging distance. And still she looked at me. My reason screamed she was a monster to destroy. My blood recoiled.

I am an old man, Maege. Nah, I love it when you flatter me, but I am. I stood trembling, threatened by tears, knowing I had outlived myself. I gripped the sword again and lifted it to kill Cat. Not Cat: a corpse. My Cat. My daugh - my niece. Sorry. Old, not senile. The memory still haunts me.

The sword slipped from my frozen fingers and hit the ground with a metallic twang.

My shame complete, I fell to one knee. I did not fear the Brotherhood's mockery; we were alone in the flame-lit glade. My heavy head fell forward, hair covering my face. I was spared the sight of that horrid gesture, Lady Stoneheart closing her throat wound to speak. Her words were dry and unearthly like something from a grave.

"Uncle Brynden."

I felt the wind of her movement as she stood over me. Her hand touched my right shoulder. I almost screamed in terror.

"Swear allegiance."

Suddenly it was all very distant. Death held no fear for me; I welcomed it. I lifted my face and looked up at her. Bone-white fingers pressing into my shoulder. Dead eyes on me. I found one last reserve of strength I did not know I possessed.

"I cannot."

And I thought I was going mad again, because I saw she was _pleased_. Lady Stoneheart was testing my mettle, and I had given the right answer.

She helped me to my feet. That touch. The crown lay on the trunk. Oh gods, forgive me, I was delirious. One-armed, I embraced her. I was so distraught with sorrow and despair that I pretended a rotting corpse was my precious niece. I think I even believed it. It was comforting. Could she draw comfort from me? I hope so.

The Seven help me, Maege, first thing I thought, I almost told her about you. I could hear young Cat's soft musical voice as I hear yours now, I could hear her laughing. 

_Why,__ Uncle __Brynden, __fish__ get __snatched __up __by __bears __all __the __time, __almost __as __often __as __knights __break__ their __vows. __Don't __blush __about __it._

No, I am all right. The story is almost over, anyway.

She - IT - stepped back, eyes dead and blood-hungry. "Banners?" she asked in that awful way.

"Aye." Why, a conversation between war leaders, as normal as you please! "Mormont and Mallister called the banners in the name of the Starks, and many lords answered."

Lady Stoneheart nodded. In my grief I almost laughed. I feared her head would fall off. Ah, glad I am not the only one who finds it funny. I needed your laughter, Maege.

"Kingslayer?" she went on.

"He's alive, as far as I know. He claims he wanted to free your daughters, but when he got to court they were nowhere to be found."

"Liar. Oathbreaker. Must die."

I told her nothing else of my parley with Jaime Lannister in front of the besieged Riverrun. I had been looking forward to meet the Kingslayer, the man who fifteen years earlier had killed King Aerys, in violation of his Kingsguard vows. I had seen a murderous whelp turned into a pathetic cripple. Not a liar. It was useless to mention it to Lady Stoneheart, but I had to do something about the slaughter she was sowing.

"I hope to meet him in battle," I said truthfully. "But women and kids... Being tied to the Lannisters does not make them criminals to be hanged."

"Oathbreakers all." No mercy in Lady Stoneheart. "Fight your battles. We fight ours."

"Help us. If we fought together..."

"No banners. No calling for us."

My sword lay at my feet. I had nothing more to say, and no heart for another attempt.

She noticed my glance. "You came to kill me."

"Yes."

She looked into my eyes, and for a moment I almost glimpsed Cat at the bottom of those pits of emptiness.

"You will. When this is over. Swear."

I stared at her. I wanted to kill her because I knew she was suffering, but I had hoped she was not fully aware of the pain, of what she had become. Even that comfort was snatched from me.

She mistook my silence for doubt. "SWEAR."

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. "I swear, Catelyn," I breathed.

She nodded again, satisfied. She sat on the tree trunk and took Robb's crown in her hands, lowering her eyes on it. I ceased to exist for her.

I picked up my sword, turned and fled, even with a lame leg and a flapping boot. I never saw anyone of the Brotherhood again. I found my horse and tried to get as far as I could from that place, towards life and warmth.

_"Bryn." I had both arms around his neck, my forehead against his. I touched his cheek and found it drenched with tears. I held him with his bandaged head against my shoulder, kissing his hair and letting him sob quietly into my surcoat. An act of love more intimate than sex. People can imagine the Blackfish with all kinds of lovers, but nobody, not even I, had ever imagined him crying so hard._

_When his tears subsided, Brynden gently disengaged from me with a pained breath and lay on his back without touching me, cradling his left arm with his right. He needed his own space. "I wanted it to be swift, for my sake as well as hers. Instead I did swear allegiance to her, in a way. I swore I'll kill her at the end of the war... and meanwhile I won't forget it for a moment." His voice was bitter. "This is what I'm looking forward to, if I survive."_

_I shivered. "Maybe someone else will kill her first."_

_He grunted. It would be the easy way out. It is not the Blackfish's way._

_I curled up, resigned to a sleepless night. My eyes had adjusted to the faint starlight reflected by the other tents, and I could discern Brynden's profile against the canvas, the shape of his body. Then he turned his head towards me. "Thank you, Maege," he said, a smile in his voice. "It was killing me."_

_Heartened, I scuttled closer. We kissed for a long time. Then I pressed my face against his shoulder, while he laid his cheek against my hair. I threw my arm across his midsection, under his folded arms, and slipped again my thigh between his, careful of his wound. I heard his soft laugh._

_We were both falling asleep. My next-to-last thought was how to boot the damn Blackfish out of my tent before dawn, to preserve a shred of decorum._

_My very last one was that whatever came to us - life or death - we would face it together._

THE END


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